


May Death Never Stop You

by anthonyjanthonyjr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caring Bobby Singer, Crying Sam Winchester, Depressed Sam Winchester, Gen, Good Parent Bobby Singer, How Do I Tag, Hurt Sam Winchester, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Lonely Sam Winchester, M/M, Other, POV Sam Winchester, Sad Sam Winchester, Samulet (Supernatural), like not physically at the moment but give me a few chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 16:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20230705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthonyjanthonyjr/pseuds/anthonyjanthonyjr
Summary: Inspired by a tumblr post I saw a while back that said that Dean never woke up from the coma in season one and everything that was happening was all in his head. I'm telling this from the point of view of Sam and most of the stuff that happened in the show will be happening to just him, because Dean is not around.I kinda abandoned this on my drive for a while so as chapters progress it will seems like a different style of writing. This is my first fic so don't come at me. Also, this isn't all the tags for the whole work. I'm not done yet so idk what will be coming up. There will obviously be more relationships and character and stuff. Yes, the title is from the MCR album. Also I'm titling the chapters by what season they'd be set in. The dates are all messed up too but legit I wrote this in school and told the teachers I was just writing a story for fun. Technically I wasn't wrong.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I just have terrible spelling and grammar so if anyone spots a grammar mistake let me know. I had someone read this, but she wasn't being too helpful. Also if anyone has any type of suggestion for what I could do in later chapters that'd be great.

On September 28, 2006, there was a major car crash. A 1967 Chevy Impala and an 18-wheeler collided. One of the men, Dean Winchester, was left in a coma. He was in the car with his dad and his brother, Sam. Sam suffered the least of the injuries and was driving the vehicle that got hit. John was alright except for a few scrapes and bruises. The man in the 18-wheeler died in the crash, though, there were no injuries seen on the surface. The cause of death was probably the demon that had been possessing his body. Yes, demons are real and Azazel is one of them. He is a yellow-eyed demon, and one of the Princes of Hell, that killed Sam and Dean’s mother, Mary, on November 2, 1983. That’s really unrelated at this point in time though. What’s important is Sam has been writing in a journal since January of after the crash, and I have been given the papers to tell his story. He wants it all from his perspective, but I was told that I could write the prologue to give you a little bit of a background on him, and why his brother is in a coma. I only had contact with him until May 25, 2016. That’s when I left, but that’s a story for another day. He’s doing just fine. I’m sure of it. Let’s just say I have my ways. I should just quit while I’m ahead. I believe I was told to make this brief. Well, anyways, this is the story of Sam Winchester…

Signed,   
Carver Edlund AKA Chuck Shurley

P.S. If you have read my other book series, this is the true story of what really happened. My characters were loosely based upon these guys. I truly was upset with what happened with Dean, but I couldn’t disappoint my loyal followers, so I embellished parts. I’m very sorry Becky that I lied saying it was true. Also, my autobiography is in the works, but I don’t have an editor anymore, so it may be a while.


	2. Season 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 2 as told from the POV of Sam Winchester. The dates are kinda botched but please just deal with it. I'm too lazy to fix them

_ January 6, 2007 _

_I️ got a notebook to write down all my feelings. The therapist said it should help. I️ don’t see what this is going to do for me. This isn’t going to change the fact that Dad is in some unknown location and won’t talk to me. It definitely won’t change_ _the fact that Dean is in a coma and there is no chance of him recovering. Azazel has plans for me and is on the loose. Dad left the hospital and said he was going to find and kill him. I️ doubt he can do that himself. Dean would have thought he could. He had such a blind faith in that man, and I️ don’t get it. It’s been_ _less than 4 months or so. No word from him. I️ don’t know how much longer I️ can hold on to..._

There’s a knock at the door. I️ look up. The motel room is a complete mess. I️ haven’t cleaned in a while. I’ve only been here for a few weeks but that’s quite a long time to be in a motel. There are bottles scattered around the table. I️ admitted to the therapist that I️ had been having a hard time without Dean. There were a few things I neglected to tell him, like I️ tried selling my soul. The stupid demon wouldn’t take it. There’s not much to live for at this point. Dean probably won’t wake up. I️’m really doubting it but Dr. Novak says to “have faith”. Clearly, he hasn’t met this family. Nothing good ever happens to us. It’s hard to have faith when God has no faith in you.

I️ walk over to the door and look through the peephole. What a relief. It’s just Bobby. Not really what I️ want right now, but it’s better than any worker at the motel. I️ unlatch and open the door. Bobby just stares at me. I️ feel like I’ve done something wrong. I️ have done some things but nothing to be stared at for. Well, maybe…

“Boy, what are you doing?” Bobby says. “You should be out there trying to find Azazel.”

“No, Bobby. I’ve given that up. Dean is gone. He’s still in the hospital but not waking up,” I️ say somberly.

“Damnit, Sam. Why have you given up? It’s Dean we’re talking about. He’s a fighter,” Bobby snaps back. 

I️ turn my head away, eyes downcast. “I️ can’t do this today, Bobby. I️’m not in the mood.”

“Sam. We need to talk about this.” 

“No. I️ think you should leave.”

“Well, if that’s what you think. Call me if you need anything. You know where to reach me.”

That’s not what I think, but I️ close the door anyways. My knees are weak. I️ can just feel the stinging in my eyes. I️ lock the door and slowly slide down it. I️ put my face in my hands, which are on top of my knees. I️’m basically in a ball. I️ feel the tears pour out. It’s so hard without Dean. Why did this have to happen to  _ him _ ? I️ bet he’d be holding up better if it was me. I️ wish it was me. The tears keep rolling. It should have been me. It’s my fault- I️ didn’t kill Azazel when I️ had the chance. I️ should have. Who cares if Dad had died? I️ had orders to follow, and I️ failed. Dad would have been fine if I️ killed him. As long as Azazel was gone. I️’m an awful son. This is the reason he doesn’t want to talk to me. The reason his favorite is in a coma.  _ Great job, Sammy. Dean is basically dead because of you _ . I️ keep crying. It’s too much work to stop. Months of bottled up emotions all being let out right now.

_ January 24, 2007 _

_ Happy 28th birthday, Dean. I️ went to visit today. I️ sat by the hospital bed and quietly sang happy birthday. By myself. No dad. No conscious Dean. _

_ March 17, 2007 _

_I️ thought I️ was ready to_ _let Dean go. Needless to say, I️’m not. At all. They told_ _me they were going_ _to_ _pull the plug today because_ _he wasn’t getting_ _better. It was embarrassing. I️ caused such a scene. It basically went like this:_

_ “No.” _

_ “What?” _

_“I️ said_ _no. Not today.”_

_“I️’m sorry, Sam. We know it hurts. There’s just no point in_ _keeping him breathing.”_

_That’s when I️ started to cry and_ _I️ raised my voice. _

_“You can’t do_ _this! I️ won’t allow it!”_

_“Please, Sam. We know_ _it’s hard.”_

_“No you don’t! You_ _haven’t had, basically your only friend, taken_ _away right before your eyes! Not if you knew there was a chance they_ _could live!”_

_I️ started crying_ _so_ _much I️ could_ _barely see._

_ “I️ WON’T LET YOU DO THIS!” _

_I️ then punched the_ _doctor in the_ _face. They dragged me out_ _crying_ _and screaming. All 6’4 220 pounds_ _of me. I️ was acting like a child. Let’s just say the doctor didn’t do it. They called me not_ _too long ago telling me that they’d tell_ _me when they’re thinking about it again. After today, I️ don’t think they’ll think about_ _it anymore._

I️ get up and grab a beer. The drinking is worse but who cares. No one is here to stop me. I️ know I should probably end it or at least slow down, but I️ don’t think that’s possible at this point. There are worse things I could be into, like heroin or crack. I keep telling myself it’s not that bad. Shit. I’m turning into John. Shove that in the small box in the back of my mind labeled “DANGER”. Bobby hasn’t stopped by in a while, and I haven’t answered my phone in days. Only two months ago, I️ was ok if Dean died. Now, I️’m not letting it happen. I’ll find a way. One way or another, Dean is coming back. As long as I️’m living, he is not dying.

_ May 2, 2007 _

_It’s very lonely. Usually, I️ had Dean or Jess on my birthday. Sometimes I️ had Dad. Jess is dead, Dean_ _is dying, Dad is MIA. It’s great. I️ have me, myself, and I. I’ve never been this lonely on my birthday in all 24 years of being on this planet. I️ don’t need presents_ _or a party, not even a cake, I️ just want Dean back._ _I️ know it’s childish, but_ _I️ lit a candle and made a wish. It’s an obvious wish. I️ don’t think it’s coming true. I️ mean, it’s just something you do_ _as a kid, and it’s not_ _possible for something like that to happen by blowing out a candle. I️ wish_ _it was. Anything to get Dean back. I’ll do anything._

I️ flop down on the bed. It’s not the most comfortable motel bed, but it’s good enough for me. This motel is closer to the hospital than the other. I’ve only been here for a few days. I️ try to move around a little bit so people don’t get the wrong idea about me. Oh, you can barely scratch the surface of what people think you’re doing in a motel for more than a week. 

“I️’m busy, come back later,” I️ shout at the door thinking it’s the maids, who always come at inconvenient times, pounding on the door because I️ won’t let them in. 

“Are you serious, Sam? Who do you think it is? It’s definitely no maid. No maid knocks like I️ just did,” Bobby yells back.

I️ roll off the bed and hobble over to the door. 

“Hey, Bobby. Come on in,” I️ say.

Bobby walks over to the small wooden table and sit down at it.

“Sorry I️ haven’t been able to come over for awhile. I’ve had some business to deal with,” he says fidgeting with something in his pocket.

“Happy birthday, Sam,” he holds out a small red box. “I️ know there was no need for me to get you something, but Dean would have wanted you to have this.”

I️ take the box, slightly confused. I️ open it slowly. It’s the amulet I️ gave Dean when we were younger. It was supposed to be for Dad but he never showed up for Christmas. I️ had given it to Dean instead. 

“Oh, Bobby. Thank you. I️ know your not much of a hugger so just know I️ appreciate it very much.”

“You’re welcome.”

Bobby gets up and says, “Well, have a good birthday. I️ hope to see you soon.”

“See ya, Bobby.”

_ May 17th, 2007 _

_ Bobby is allowing me to live with him for a little while. He thought I️ was lonely I️ guess. Don’t get me wrong, I️ was so frickin lonely, but Bobby really didn’t have to do that. He’s starting to feel more like a dad to me than my own. That’s a good thing now. Bobby gave me some interesting information. He got it from Ellen who heard it from some random hunters at the Roadhouse. Dad found Azazel. He neglected to tell me. I could have helped. We could have struck a deal to save Dean and make sure we both lived. Nope. He decided to go kill Azazel on his own. Azazel apparently opened the Devil’s Gate. Dad was able to shoot him with the Colt but the gate still opened. He decided it was a good idea to sell his soul to a demon. Usually people get 10 or even 1 year. Not Dad though. He didn’t even bother getting Dean back. Dad sold his soul to get the gate closed and was given no time. It’s not even a definite thing. I can’t believe him. Why would he ever do that? I thought Azazel was alive until around 30 minutes ago when Bobby told me the news. I got a small letter in the mail just a few hours ago addressed to me. I thought it was weird, because I don’t legally live with Bobby. I decided to open it anyways… _

I put my pen down and glance over at the white envelope. The letter is hanging out the side of it, but it’s folded so no one can see what is is written on it. There was very little but it basically said that there are psychic children like myself that have special powers. I knew there were others like me. Max Miller had similar powers. It was all fine and dandy until I kept reading. I really just want to scream right now. There’s no sugar coating the fact I have demon blood in me. Azazel said it himself. That’s why I get all those weird visions of people dying. Azazel dripped some of his own into my mouth that night Mom died. Apparently, I was supposed to be something big and help him. He knew I wasn’t going to do that, so he sent me the note instead. I’m burning with rage, but there’s this overwhelming feeling of defeat over me too. I don’t really know why. There’s no way in hell I’m telling Bobby. I always knew that I was a freak. This is just a whole new level. I can’t tell Bobby. He hunts things like me. I’ll have to keep it a secret for now.


End file.
